Galvin

He’s back. Coffee guy. Black hair, pale skin, gold eyes, red lips, really tight ass. Knocking on my office door like he doesn’t know who I am. Smiling at me like he doesn’t know what I am. Breathing easy like he doesn’t know he’s mine.

He’s been by six times this week. Coffee related. Stands outside my open office door, leaning on Margie’s desk while chatting up a storm. Tight jeans, hard thighs, very nice biceps under his polo. His name’s Jayden. Human resources sent me up a file on him before I requested it. Because they knew. One whiff of Jayden’s sweat, and I knew. Jayden, for whatever reason, has yet to figure things out. It’s been interesting.

“Hey, Mr. Starling, right? I’ve got five for you.”

He’s a terrible flirt. Margie’s been telling me. She also insists the kid is really just naïve as fuck. But he’s standing in my office doorway, breathing deep as he takes in every telltale scent my body gives off as he looks around. And he’s just smiling that lazy, confident smile he’s had since the first day I saw him. I have to say, I like it.

I don’t bother answering. I want to see what he’ll do. I’m a busy guy, and believe me, wasting my time not only wastes a ton of money, but jeopardizes the lives of every man, woman, and child in my very extensive pack. We’re shifters. Wolf. A few canine mutts, but not many. I have the most powerful clan on the East coast. I am the most powerful man on the East coast. And when I turn into a wolf, I am quite literally the top dog. Alpha. Packleader. Protector, warrior, and businessman all rolled into one.

“You must have an allnighter planned to need so much coffee. I think I’d be on a caffeine buzz by just two of these.” He steps in, drinks balanced in a cardboard holder. I watch him out of the corner of my eye while I finish looking over my financial report on my laptop. He hesitates a foot from my desk. I can feel him looking at me, taking in my broad shoulders, large hands, sharp, predatory face. I’m a silver wolf, and my hair matches. Combined with my ice blue eyes, and deep tan, I get a lot of stares. More so when my clothes are off. But he’s a slut, and he’s not subtle.

“The desk is fine,” I say when he continues to stand there. His hands have the slightest of tremors when he places the coffee down. Not naïve. Or at least, not anymore. I’ve got an Alpha’s voice. Low, seductive, and all power. I glance over my computer at him, and he’s stuck. Just like that. Gotta say, it’s good to be king. A couple of words, one hard stare, and a pretty thing like Jayden can’t move his legs.

“How many more people are waiting for drinks?” I ask, watching his pupils dilate from the sound of my voice. He’s hotter up close. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing jeans in my multibillion-dollar setup. Jayden’s lower ranks, and he’s got nice thighs, so I’m going to let it slide.

“Um, twenty or so…” He trails off, exhaling loudly as his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. He’s having a hard time. I have that effect on shifters. He’s close enough to smell my musk, and he’s pretty much jelly.

“I suggest you get going.” Or he’s going to stand here staring at me until he dies of starvation, or I leave.

He swallows, my eyes drawn to the way his throat convulses. Sweat is just starting to prickle on his brow, and he’s wafting a very enticing sex scent. “Right… I should, um, get back to work. Enjoy your coffee.”

I flash him a smirk, revealing a hint of fang. “I don’t drink coffee, Jayden.”

He swallows again, this time because he’s trying to figure out why I know his name. I’m an alpha. The Alpha. Only a few reasons I’d give a fuck to know my coffee guy’s name when I don’t drink coffee. His feet backpedal slowly, lovely gold eyes still caught in mine. Yeah, he’s something worth looking at. “Ah, well, you have enough to bathe in… so… yeah…”

Silently I watch him go. He practically collapses on Margie’s desk. Silly, naïve little wolf.

I IM my five guys. They’re in my office drinking the coffee by the time Jayden makes his way back. No one gets through the top floor without passing my office door.

“Trev.” I don’t say anything else. Trevor takes a final sip of his coffee, tosses the cup in the trash, and goes to greet my pretty new bitch.

Jayden tries to play it cool. He’s smooth, polite, and still has work to do. Trevor grins and grabs him firmly by the nape of the neck. Gold eyes half obscured by heavy lids, Jayden allows himself to be walked into my office. Good boy.

“Door?”

“Open.” It’s still work hours, and I might be needed.

Things have changed in my office since Jayden was last here. The most impressive would be the five muscular young men lounging on the leather couch that takes up two walls of the large space. I’m quick with introductions. Freddie heads Research and Development. Hans runs Accounting. Trevor’s my Vice, Sean my Junior Partner, and Liam’s my Marketing god. My guys call me Galvin, but Jayden will be referring to me only as Alpha. He will call them each Sir.

The guys give Jayden a polite hello while my coffee guy sways on his feet, his cheeks growing flushed from all the testosterone in the air. I hang with other alphas. They’re not rivals; they’re loyal. Useful for keeping my business running smoothly, and we all have similar interests. Jayden just nods, his lips parted as he begins to pant. Coffee guy has a very nice mouth.

I look at Trevor, who still has his hand on Jayden’s neck. “Strip him.”

“Oh, fuck.” Eyes widening, Jayden falls to his knees the instant he’s released. We’re off to a good start.

He’s ours…

Sitting in the large, sun-soaked cafeteria with the voices of excited students all around him, Daniel could not look away from Mason Blackthorne. It was a problem, and not a new one. He’d had a thing for the blond for years now, but lately things were getting worse. Dangerous. Something was different about Mason and it was driving him crazy.

Oh, he still looked the same. Mason Blackthorne was one of the hottest sorcerers Daniel had ever met, and that was saying something. With enough magic everyone looked damn sexy. It was just something innate about using the power, like the magic sank into the cells and transformed the wielder with each spell. Daniel was used to being surrounded by beautiful people, was used to being one himself with his dark hair and strange, gold eyes, yet Mason managed to stand out like a glowing flame to his senses.

To call Mason pale would be an understatement. The boy’s skin was pure cream, his hair platinum white. Average height but lithe and toned, Mason was a glint of moonlight most of the time, the only color he revealed being his red lips and maddening cerulean eyes that glowed in certain light. Mason was stunning and Daniel wished that was the reason he couldn’t stop staring at him.

He tried valiantly to focus on what his best friends William and Tiana were saying across from him at the table. The couple was getting an apartment together, both of them having already applied and been accepted as magical regulators in training. He didn’t want to think about the fact that it was his last day at the Academy of Magical Arts and Sorcery. Daniel was giving up magic and hadn’t told anyone yet. It was for the best. It was time to finally let magic and Mason Blackthorne go for good.

It was the only answer. Surely anything else would lead to him destroying the beautiful boy and himself in the process.

Daniel didn’t want to live in a world of magic. After four years of advanced sorcerer training, he no longer had any doubts. It didn’t matter that he had raw talent and even greater power. He had been named an Elite, a title bestowed on only the most illustrious of sorcery students, Daniel being the only one during the last five years to receive the honor. Since the title, he had been interview repeatedly in three different newspapers, offered two internships, one of them into the Council of Esteemed, and had received two dozen offers from Masters around the world hoping he would choose them for formal apprenticeship. Daniel had the magical world in the palm of his hand and he was determined to leave it all behind.

Unfortunately there was a loud, roaring, bloodthirsty beast inside of him that wanted to stay.

Ours… We must make him ours…

It had been a difficult year. Two months ago Daniel had lost his chronically ill grandmother, his only guardian since he was a small child. It had almost been a relief when Sofia Warweaver finally passed away. Even though he was away at what would be considered the equivalent of college in an academic setting, the majority of his attention had been spent dealing with the doctors and nurses keeping the sorceress alive. Her mind had failed in the end, the women a shadow of her former powerful glory as the curse that had been cast on her before Daniel was born took its slow, torturous course of eating her away.

It had been a reminder to him of just what magic did, even to the most powerful. And his Grandmum had been one of the greats. Older than what she claimed, certainly, although she managed to look under forty when Daniel last saw her, she had lost both her son and daughter to terrible warlocks over twenty years ago, that daughter being Daniel’s mother. For all her power, she had not been able to save either of her children and it had broken her more than the curse that struck her down.

Take him… Claim him…

Daniel, eyes having managed to find their way to his breakfast of scrambled eggs and ham, slowly looked back up to where Mason was chatting obliviously with his friends.

You can smell him… He wants us… He’s aching for us…

“Shut the fuck up,” Daniel muttered under his breath. His beast did not, growling lowly in his ear, commenting on all the ways Mason chose to not look in his direction, the boy blatantly ignoring them like the little flirt he was.

Over the table… He won’t fight us… He’s begging for us… Just cross the room, push him down to the table, and take him… He’ll give in… He wants to give in to us…

Daniel was not a crazy person, even if he did have a dark voice rumbling in his ear to fuck Mason Blackthorne senseless. He was a shifter, one of the rare mythical shifters at that. The beast inside of him had never walked the earth in any other form, waking up in the oldest, strongest family bloodlines to experience life with a human host. It was supposed to be a great honor to hold a beast within. Daniel had found out very quickly that it was not, the blood lion within him an absolute menace. The moment it had woken up he had caged the beast to keep it from taking over his body and transforming him into a wild animal. No, Daniel wasn’t a crazy person, but if he had to deal with the beast roaring over Mason Blackthorne for another month, he was going to go out of his fucking mind.

He looks good today…

Mason did, in fact, look fucking hot as hell, the boy dressed in tailored slacks and a collared short-sleeved shirt like the privileged preppy brat he was. His biceps, tight and toned, were looking particularly interesting as the blond leaned his elbows on the table to talk to his neighbor, cerulean eyes lighting ever so subtly on Daniel’s intense stare before looking away with a small grin.

He wants us… We should take him… Have him… Keep him…

“Shut up, you stupid furball,” Daniel muttered, wishing Mason would stop grinning every time he looked his way.

He’ll be tight… Loud… His cries for us will echo off the walls…

Daniel really needed to get the fuck out of there. It was the last day of class. Tomorrow he’d be officially graduated and no longer required to share a cafeteria, hallway, or classroom with Mason. Just one more day to endure, and he’d be free from this insanity.

“Seeing as you’re talking to yourself, I’m going to assume you haven’t been listening?” William broke in, only looking slightly annoyed when Daniel glanced at him blankly. William, tall with light brown hair and dark eyes, had been attempting to draw Daniel into conversation for the last ten minutes. His failure was only mildly disheartening, having grown used to his friend’s strange behavior. “Blackthorne?” He asked when Daniel’s golden gaze began slipping away again. “Has he hexed you again?”

Grunting noncommittally, Daniel forced his attention to William and Tiana’s expectant faces. He hadn’t felt it necessary to reveal to his friends of four years that lately whenever he was fighting with Mason he was also trying to hold back the beast from tearing the boy’s clothes off. The two knew about the Blood King inside him and had accepted a lot of weird behavior from him as the consequence. Still, some things were just a bit too much to share.

“We were asking if you’d like to join us on our vacation, Daniel,” Tiana spoke up. “I hate to think of you all alone in that big house now that your grandmother has passed away.”

Daniel winced, picking up his fork so he could pretend to eat. “I’m going to be really busy this summer. The Estate needs to be settled, things boxed up—That sort of thing.” He didn’t meet Tiana’s eye. Daniel was actually homeless. With the death of his Grandmum, the large Warweaver Estate had been spelled shut to everyone. He couldn’t even get to his own things until the reading of the will, something that wouldn’t occur for another month. “Besides, you two haven’t had a chance to be alone since you started dating. I’d hate to be a third wheel.”

William shot Daniel a grateful look. Tiana worried too much and William was a bit oblivious, but Daniel loved them both and didn’t want to burden them with his own shit.

He had met his Aunt April for the first time at Sophia’s funeral. He knew the woman existed but she had never contacted him after his father’s death. He hadn’t given much thought to why until face to face with his aunt. She was terrified of magic, and more so, the people that wielded it. Her brother and his family had been obliterated in the blink of an eye and she had not been able to take in the nephew that had survived. Until now, when she had demanded Daniel live with her family that summer until the will was settled. Daniel, with no place left to turn, had hesitantly agreed.

April’s only stipulation was that he didn’t perform magic while at the house. And well, that had been more than fine with him. It would be a summer without magic while finally getting to know the only family he had left in the world. And maybe, if things went well, it would be a lot longer than a summer.

“Oh, the Trinity’s here.” Tiana jumped up, her silky red hair flipping over her shoulders as she scraped her chair back to get a copy of the sorcery rag before they were all snatched up. There were a few different newspapers dedicated just to the magical going ons in the world, even though the main papers still had a section for magic users. Daniel had stopped reading them once he started finding his own face staring out at him since named the newest Elite. It was just bizarre.

He’s calling us… Can’t you feel his power? The dragon is calling us to claim him…

Daniel groaned inwardly, hunching into his seat as he tried to pull his beast from its focus on Mason.

He wants us… If we reveal ourselves he will bend to us… Cry for us…

Daniel wasn’t certain that the King was wrong. Something had changed about Mason. About three months ago when he’d been watching the last of his grandmother’s life slip away, Mason Blackthorne had woken up different and his beast had not shut up since about it.

Mason and Daniel didn’t have a traditional relationship to begin with—Well, unless you counted on the playground. Mason loved to annoy the shit out him every chance he got, from casting little hexes on him, to challenging him in class, to outright sabotaging his homework. The blond just couldn’t leave him alone and Daniel had been more than okay with it.

He enjoyed their strange game, forever transfixed on the vicious expression Mason made right before he struck. They had a bizarre interaction, extremely intense and one that Mason seemed quite happy to pretend was nothing more than childish rivalry even as he fueled Daniel’s attraction into a burning flame. And if he’d been fully human, maybe that would have been easy enough to resist. But the beast inside him full of power and terrible, malevolent instincts had different plans for Mason.

The Blood King found the taunting game fascinating. A lion toying with a soft, fragile mouse, his beast had flexed claws while Mason nibbled, twittered, and fluffed his whiskers whenever Daniel walked into the room. And in response to Daniel’s attention, Mason had become outright teasing, his otherworldly eyes flashing in laughter as he stared too long, hands brushing over him in electric moments as they passed too close. Even lips against his ear once, Mason leaning in to whisper something lewd and asinine while he’d been reading. It had become a very riveting game.

Take him now… He’s calling us, wants us… We must have him…

Then it had all gone to shit.

Mason was no longer a mouse. Months ago something had changed in the boy that made the King stare intrigued and possessive. Snapping, caustic energy, luminous and unrestrained had begun to crackle just beneath the blond’s surface. It was deadly, powerful, and awesomely alluring. To the point that Daniel’s beast could no longer concentrate on anything but said power whenever Mason was near. He’d been forced to push back to keep the blond at arm’s length and safe from his beast. He had enough control over himself, his beast still only a caged animal roaring inside him. But sometimes when Mason came too close, snapped his power too loud with clamping jaws and slashing talons, Daniel lost himself, the beast rearing up to… Well.

Screwing Mason Blackthorne into a wall was not an activity Daniel felt healthy, for himself or the obnoxious, rich brat.

It was an extremely complicated issue, seeing as Mason was fucking gorgeous, adorably snarky, and usually fun to be around when not hexing him. Fine, even when hexing. It didn’t really matter. It was a lost cause, one Daniel should never have indulged in. No matter that Mason flirted with him every chance he got, in cruel, cutting ways to shock him. No matter that his beast roared loud and demanding whenever the boy was near, snapping and rattling its cage until Daniel was brooding and ready to break something for want of the blond. They could never be together.

Even if Mason Blackthorne came to him on hands and knees and begged, Daniel would never, ever, touch the boy, no matter how much he wanted to.

Tiana gave a huff when William began to prod her, finally handing the newspaper over to her boyfriend, who always demanded the sports section before she became ensnared in the pages. Daniel’s eyes were across the room again, watching Mason bow his head as he read his own paper. For the life of him, he just couldn’t keep his eyes off the boy.

Mason was biting his lip, thoughtlessly gnawing on the flushed flesh as he flipped through the oversized pages. His hair, shining blond and silvery, was hanging down loose, soft around his shoulders. Slowly a tint of pink began to reach the perfect, creamy skin of his cheeks as he stopped and started reading intently.

The terrible things he would do with Mason Blackthorne’s lips. The things he would make him say, beg… He could make Mason beg. Beg for more, for harder, and faster, and every drop of seed he had to give him…

“Son of a—Phsssh!” William spluttered, spraying orange juice all over the table and the paper he was reading. “Holy hell,” he uttered between coughs. “The fucking… ass… is getting bonded.”

Daniel wasn’t sure who or what he was referring to, but he was grateful for the distraction. It had been enough to draw his attention from Mason and the heated thoughts swirling in his mind once again. God, he really needed to get the fuck out of there.

“What?” Tiana asked, snatching the paper from William when her boyfriend showed more interest in choking on his drink than finishing his thought. “Oh. My. God.” She gaped, jaw falling open and staying open.

Narrowing his eyes at his friends’ display, Daniel grabbed the damp paper from Tiana’s slack grasp. On the third page a large black and white image of Mason stared back at him, looking restrained and cool with mild hints of nervousness around his mouth. There was no fucking escape from the brat. Daniel resisted the urge to crumple the paper up, instead folding the page so he would not have to stare at Mason Blackthorne’s face as he read the article beneath.

Unreal. Fucking bizarre.

“It’s a joke, right?” Tiana asked. “A dragon? He’s looking for suitors because he’s part dragon? I never saw him as having a beast.”

Daniel shrugged distractedly as he read, realizing he had never mentioned it to his friends. He really didn’t need them to know just how crazy he was about the kid. His eyes followed down to where Selina, Mason’s mother, was said to have passed down strong dragon ancestry to her son when conceived. Dragon genes were prominent in the Rowe family bloodline and woke up during the early twenties.

William shook his head, finally able to get his coughing under control. “Being part dragon isn’t the issue. He’s a conduit. Anyone looking for a hit of power will be running him down to force a bond.”

Daniel then got to that part; the very special ability Mason had locked inside him. Unimaginable power that the boy couldn’t access alone but his bondmate could, the sorcerer of choice capable of wielding it however he so desired.

Daniel paused, taking a slow breath as his blood lion gave a rattle to its cage. That would be the wild power that had been driving his beast insane lately. It wasn’t unique… it wasn’t just him. Every beast that got a look at Mason would sense it too. They would all want him.

He is ours…

Daniel ignored the creature and turned back to the paper. Mason needed a bondmate, soon, before some power hungry jackass decided that they’d have that power no matter how the boy felt about it. And the mate had to be powerful and fierce because those power hungry madmen would have no issue in killing Mason’s chosen just to chain the dragon and have it at beck and call exclusively.

It was a chilling situation, Daniel’s mind wandering to his dead parents and sister, their lives cut down because of insane men that had wanted power so much they had drained it from the living. It was the seedy dark side to sorcery no one talked about; insatiable greed in the hands of powerful men. Mason wouldn’t be killed, but he would be enslaved for the rest of his life, some monster draining him dry whenever he wished if the boy were captured.

Mason would be seeing suitors that summer, going through a selection process to find an acceptable bondmate. Until then, the boy would be locked in his house, protected from any maniac that would try to kidnap and force a bond on him.

Daniel threw the paper into Tiana’s waiting hands, scowling darkly at the table top. Suitors. How many fucking sorcerers wanted into Mason’s pants? Probably a shit ton if they only had a look at the gorgeous boy. Fucking absurd. With furious restraint, Daniel raised his eyes and sought out Mason’s face across the room.

The blond was in full out angry blush, pink having turned to red as he ripped his paper in half right down the middle of his photo. His parents must have had the article published in the hopes of attracting eligible suitors. Mason’s handsomeness, wealth, and many talents had been listed at the end, most with glaring tones of innuendo.

“I don’t understand,” Tiana mused aloud, reading through the article again. “Why are they calling for powerful sorcerers? Wouldn’t Blackthorne want to be bonded to a sorceress? I mean, bonding is like some antiquated form of marriage, but with magic.”

“He’s gay,” Daniel said darkly, eyes fixed on Mason, who was taking the torn pieces and ripping them again, slowly turning the paper into a mess of long strips. Gay, containing a dragon, and apparently a conduit. How many fucking sorcerers would be chasing after the boy now?

“Oh… Ohhh.” Tiana blinked up, looking at Daniel. “Is that something… Like, you can tell your own kind?”

He glanced her way, the corners of his mouth curling in a grim smirk. “As in beast, or as in fag? Both seem to apply.”

Tiana nodded mutely, then turned back to the article. Only to look up again, eyebrows raised inquiringly. “So are you going to…?”

Slowly and deliberately, Daniel turned his full attention to Tiana while William spluttered again on his juice beside her. “Tia, I want you to finish that sentence. And then I want you to stop and realize just how fucking halfwitted you are.”

Tiana glared, staring Daniel down as her ill-tempered friend tried to intimidate her. She had grown used to his foul moods and dark power years ago and never allowed it to get the best of her. “You are both gay. You both apparently have powerful beasts. And you are both absolutely and madly obsessed with each other,” she hissed lowly. “It is not an unreasonable thought that you might want to date him.”

“You are out of your goddamn mind,” Daniel growled, hands biting into the wood of the table as he gripped hard. It didn’t matter that his beast was agreeing with the girl, very much wanting to claim Mason, and preferably before any competition showed up.

“Yeah? Then why are you so angry?” Tiana shot back, picking up the paper and unfurling so he was forced to stare at Mason’s obnoxiously attractive face. She knew Daniel wanted Blackthorne, for years now. She just couldn’t figure out why he refused to admit it, especially since he’d apparently known the kid was gay the whole time.

William, once again gaining control of his coughing, crushed the paper down, grabbed Tiana around the waist, and pulled her against his tall form so that she fell away from Daniel’s menacing glare. “Tia, you’re sticking your nose in it.”

“He called me a halfwit!” She muttered with a petulant huff.

“He’s going to do a hell of a lot worse if you don’t stop pissing him off about the pain in the ass. Daniel, calm down!” William ordered, slamming his fist loudly on the table to break Daniel from his angry, low growl.

Daniel blinked out of his glower, looking up and around while the other students sitting at the table gave him wary glares. He had become rather dangerous lately, prone to moods and violent outbursts at the slightest of provocation since Mason’s energy had started sparking. He hadn’t hurt anyone yet, that they knew of, but it seemed to be only a matter of time.

Scowling darkly, Daniel’s gaze once again trailed over to where Mason was sitting, only to meet an answering blue glare. Fucking Blackthorne.

He flipped the blond off, rewarded with a vicious snarl and a returning rude hand gesture. Then the fucker blew him a kiss, his beast practically salivating at the sight, and Daniel got up and stormed out of the cafeteria.

***

Glare following as Daniel left, Mason turned to Jackson. “Fucking Cross.”

Jackson Falkner just rolled his ice-blue eyes, ducking beneath long black hair and reading the paper he had refused to let Mason tear up. His friend had issues with Daniel Cross, usually resulting in endless, drawn out monologues filled with more obscenities than usable words. Not commenting was the only way to keep from encouraging Mason into said rants.

Unfortunately, Mason rarely needed the encouragement, and this was one of those times.

“Fucking headcase, probably making fun of me with his fucktard friends. Like I wanted my fucking life put in the damn paper like a damn fucking fool. Now the whole fucking school knows I’m not only a fucking conduit beast, but that I also like cock. Fucking shithead, crazy ass, Cross.”

Jackson didn’t bother pointing out that Cross had actually no fault in Mason’s life being dragged out in the paper. It was exclusively his friend’s terrible, manipulative parents. Mason’s parents were always doing things to embarrass the boy, to the point that Jackson wondered if it wasn’t intentional. Really, a call for a bondmate didn’t need such details. Those were normally given later in privacy once an interested suitor had approached.

“What exactly makes your parents think you can blow as good as you get?” Suzy drawled, her long blond hair sparkling in the light, brown eyes flashing teasingly as Mason turned his glare to her. “Is this something they’ve seen first hand? Or do you just share far too much information?”

“Fuck off,” Mason grumbled, trying to grab her paper so he could destroy it, only to have her hold it out of reach.

“Oh no, I’m framing this. And did you see Cross? He was pissed. Must be jealous he has competition for your special, freakish affection.”

Mason rolled his eyes, stabbing his fork into the table until it stood vertically into the wood. Suzy had a theory, the miserable bitch, and insisted on trotting it out every time Cross showed any emotion towards him. Of course, most Cross ever showed towards him was anger, even more explosive recently than before. Mason didn’t know what the asshole’s problem was and he didn’t fucking care. It just made things more fun when he sabotaged his spellwork.

“They’ve gone too far,” Jackson interjected before Suzy could once again run down her many reasons she was certain Cross was gagging for Mason’s dick. “Mentioning you were a conduit before you’re bonded—They’ve put you in serious danger. You’re not even safely hidden within your ancestry walls yet.”

Mason bit his lip, well aware. His parents meant well, in their overbearing arrogant need to show him off, and themselves as a result. But letting the whole fucking world know that he was a conduit was asking for every crazy warlock in the vicinity to come knocking on the Academy’s front door to kidnap and rape him. It was concerning, to say the least.

“Stupid fucking Cross and his fucking show off Elite power. Couldn’t get a goddamn article on that championship duel he won to bump this fucking disaster my fucking parents put out. Fuck, fuck, fuck… fuck… fuck…” Mason started dropping his head on the table, clunking repeatedly to every muttered curse. It helped a little.

Jackson reached over and placed his dark hand beneath his friend’s forehead before he could smash his brains out. “This needs a strategy. What the fuck are you going to do? You’re putting everyone at risk as long as you’re here.”

Mason glared, resting his face in Jackson’s palm. “I suppose I’ll find the biggest, baddest motherfucker in the school and have him make me his bitch.”

Jackson raised a brow while Suzy cackled happily and clapped. It was difficult to argue with the girl when Mason kept saying things that clearly showed an interest in the Elite sorcerer. He might not have been particularly tall or muscular, but Cross was the most powerful sorcerer to come out of the Academy in years. The kid had become damn near beastly in attitude, and no one could match him in fighting or much anything else for that matter. “Or instead of letting Cross fuck you, you could, you know, take a portal home.”

“Whatever,” Mason muttered, shutting his eyes.

It was bad enough he had to go through finding a suitable bondmate while so young and for such dire reasons. But now he had to do it while all his fucking classmates knew. He’d been able to get away with the other aspects that had arisen when his beast had woken up and started prowling. This was apparently the end of that.

No one had seen his physical changes associated with it, at least, not the weird ones. He had grown, his already toned body lengthening and strengthening to manifest the dragon now curled within him. But no one had seen the horns, or the scales, or even the claws, fangs, and wings. Even though power buzzed inside him, no one had noticed his spells becoming more powerful and explosive.

If he craved raw red meat once in a while, no one called him on it. Nor when he started sniffing people as they passed, seeking out information and potential suitors. So he was a little more surly, a little more cutting and vicious; not really anything to write home about. Mason had never actually been nice before.

But this. This fucking article business. This was nearly everything laid out in black and white. This was mortifying, not to mention dangerous. As strong as he had become when his beast awoke, he was not invincible. Part of his existence was to empower another, not wield such power himself. His dragon craved desperately for a companion to help ensure his survival. A protector. A lover.

Very much the last one.

The beast was preposterously horny. Like, fucking on your knees, begging for dick, horny. It was embarrassing. He had a permanent spell on all his underwear just to keep from looking like a degenerate around the academy. Thankfully no one noticed his constant tang of sex scent, no other beasts in the school to respond.

Well, except for fucking Cross. Daniel had never said a word to anyone, had never even suggested that he was more than human, but the day Mason’s dragon had woken, every telltale sign of the beast was suddenly blaring loud to his senses and impossible to ignore. Daniel was something, something powerful, and he wouldn’t let it out. Which was just like stupid, noble Cross. The kid had a stick up his ass that had only lodged in deeper since he’d been named an Elite. Always going on about not abusing magic, that the dark arts were the killer of the soul, blah, fucking blah. Daniel was a moralistic bore that wouldn’t cast a dark spell to save his own fucking life.

The jackass had also outright ignored everything Mason had thrown at him. Even when he’d managed to look like he’d accidentally fallen right into the Elite’s lap yesterday. The fucker had lifted him up like he weighed nothing at all, placed him on his feet, and left the class they were sharing even though there had been a half hour left. Daniel had started ignoring him, not responding to his pranks or taunts like he used to, and it was getting really fucking annoying.

Not that he wanted Cross, with his brooding moods, and fucking wild gold eyes, and sexy mouth… His inky black hair always mussed up in a stylish, freshly fucked look, his skin a warm, golden tan with that fit, toned body that just begged to be touched and kissed and licked… Damn it.

Fuck Cross, the fucking asshole. Fuck him hard, and deep, and on his fucking knees like the fucking slut he was.

“Mason, stop drooling on my hand,” Jackson complained, wrenching his hand out from beneath his head to let the blond clunk on the table.

Mason blinked up, not certain when his thoughts had once again strayed. The fucking dragon was misery; horny, powerful, and a glowing damn target for every eligible psycho in the area. It had also fixated on Cross like the boy was catnip, trying to get Mason to do things—Really messed up things that involved stripping naked and crawling on his knees, even in rooms as busy and full as the cafeteria. Seeing as he was only just starting to get to know his dragon, Mason still wasn’t sure if this was because Cross was hiding a beast, or if it was just because it was Cross. Either way, it was too fucking embarrassing for words.

Thank god he was going home in less than a week. He would be safe in the mansion. Safe from asshole students giggling behind their hands about him looking for a bondmate. Safe from rapist, power hungry madmen wanting to force a bond to steal his power. Safe to jerk at the ridiculous level needed to finally find some peace.

He couldn’t wait to go home and never have to see Daniel fucking Cross again.

“Now look; you’ve woken him.” Bare feet padded softly on the floor. Lovely knelt on the bed to bend over Ky and gently trace his features. “Go back to sleep, sweet boy. You need to rest.”

“Lovely. Lovely, the basement,” Ky mumbled as he finally got his eyes to open. “There’s someone trapped down there.”

Lovely shook his head, his brows furrowed. “No, Ky.”

“What does the little whelp want?” Feral grumbled. He glared down from behind Lovely’s shoulder.

“He thinks there’s someone in the basement.” Lovely shrugged dismissively. He combed through Ky’s dark hair while Ky fought to keep his eyes open. “He’s muddled. He needs to rest.”

Ky was certain. He knew when Lovely and Feral were there hiding in the dark even though his rational mind told him otherwise. He knew there was someone in the basement. Under the rot, under the blood, there was someone sad and afraid. “Please. Please, help me up. I need… I need to get to them.”

Feral snarled and his ears flattened back. “Like I’d ever leave this frrrling room? He must think we’re as dumb as he is.”

“Shut up,” Lovely hissed and shoved Feral away. “Ky, no. They’re dead.”

“Thornes, leave the boy. You’re wasting…”

“Thornes?” Ky’s eyelids were heavy as he looked up into Lovely’s mismatched gaze of violet and blue. “Is that your name?”

Feral slipped up and growled down at him. His golden eyes pierced into Ky’s inches away. “Can he understand us? Can this blasted frrling understand us now?”

Lovely grabbed Feral by his thick, golden hair and pulled him away roughly. With a wary look, he bent closer to Ky and spoke slowly but steadily. “Thornes is a nickname of my given name. Where I’m from, our names have three parts to indicate our lineage.”

“Oh.” Ky licked his lips and blinked dazedly. “Where are you from?”

Feral, who was listening, made to grab Lovely, only to have the pale catboy stop him with a glare. “He understands us, Thornes! He’s some sort of… Rrrl! You just bonded to a damn, a damn abomination!”

“So help me, Redeless, you will shut your mouth or I will throw you out that bedroom door and finally be done with you for good!” Lovely promised with a low growl. Feral glared back but closed his mouth. A growl rumbled in his chest defiantly.

“Lovely, don’t fight,” Ky whispered. The darkness stole the energy he was desperately holding onto. “I need to help the other. The one in the basement.”

“He’s dead, kid. They’re all dead. Damn, the boy is frrrling annoying,” Feral snapped.

“No. No, he’s alive. Could hear him move. I’m so tired.” Ky’s eyes closed in a blink which threatened to never end. “Why so tired?”

“Hush.” With a final warning glare at Feral, Lovely leaned down and pushed Ky’s hair from his face with a soft smile. “Your magic is waking, that’s all. You’ve been bonded to a demon, a very strong one. It’s a deep bond and it will tie magic into your flesh in ways most humans don’t get to experience. It will make you tired now, but soon you will feel stronger. Powerful. I would never do anything to hurt you, Ky. I promise.”

Ky nodded. He knew all along; Lovely was wonderful and would never hurt him. “You’re very beautiful for a demon. Very nice. I didn’t know demons were nice.”

“It’s what they call us, sweet boy, the humans and the sorcerers. We can do things they can’t, so they call us demons and monsters.”

“But you’re not,” Ky insisted quietly as his eyes finally opened again.

“No, we’re not. We’re Relics,” Lovely explained with a distant gaze. “We come from a place far away from here. We used to live with our families, with our tribes and clans in our realm. We’re just people who can do things you humans can’t. Some humans figured out how to summon us from our homes. The sorcerers used a spell to tie us to them so they could live long and use magic as we do.”

“Oh.” Ky was extremely tired. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to listen to everything Lovely was saying, but it was just so hard to focus. “Don’t you… Wouldn’t you rather go back home? It’s an okay room, but… but you’ve been here for years. You eat rats. Why don’t you go home, Lovely?”

Lovely smiled wanly, leaned down and gently kissed Ky on the mouth. “You are a very sweet boy, and I’m glad I met you.” He sat back and covered his hand over Ky’s brow. “Close your eyes. I will teach you a spell, a vital one, when you wake up. You’re going to need all your strength, Ky. The new moon is approaching, and I need you strong.”

Ky nodded sleepily. “I’d do anything for you, Lovely. Anything.”

“Then rest. Let your magic grow strong.” Lovely sighed as his fingers moved over the heavy black collar secured around his neck. “I’m a very strong Relic. I was one of the jewels of Anselm’s collection. If… If I bonded with him the way I did you, perhaps he would be here now.”

Something niggled in the back of Ky’s mind and pushed through the sleep pulling him down. “The basement. There’s someone who needs help.”

Lovely shook his head. “They’re all dead. We are the only two left of Anselm’s collection. There was one who held out for the longest time. He was much older and stronger than I, maybe stronger than the demented creature who hunted us down. We were all weakened when our master fell, confused and afraid. She drained him dead last month. His life force is gone.”

“Drained.” Ky knew he was wrong. He just needed to be able to move to prove it. “Are you hungry? I need… I need to feed you so you don’t… don’t eat all the rats.”

Feral snorted behind Lovely, but didn’t comment otherwise. “We don’t need to eat, Ky. Demons feed off of energy. Food tastes fine enough, but it’s the life force of our food that strengthens us. We prefer living food; blood, saliva, semen, sweat. Every time I kiss you, I grow stronger, my sweet. Now please, you must sleep.” A thrumming purr filled the air as Lovely bent down to press lips to Ky’s forehead.

Ky nodded weakly and his body relaxed further into the mattress. “He was scared. So afraid.”

Feral huffed and grumbled under his breath. “Worry about yourself, whelp. The wards in this room have kept the bitch out for years, but there’s no blocking the wardrobe. When she returns, she’s going to kill us all, likely starting with your defenseless parents.”

The words filled the darkness of his mind. Ky was asleep before he could feel them fully, lulled by Lovely’s calming purr.

Ky, who was supposed to have only stepped into his wardrobe, was naked, lost and surrounded by absolute darkness. His nose filled with dust. He sneezed and immediately smacked his head into his hand. “Ow.” For some reason he was certain he was in the attic. He didn’t have a way to confirm it with everything dark and impossible to see, but something about the smell and dust made him think of the place and the hole where all of Anselm’s sorcery equipment was hidden.

Ky really didn’t have a moment to think. Something soft and fluffy rubbed against his bare leg in the utter darkness. He grabbed for it, careful not to yank when he recognized Lovely’s tail. The catboy gave another angry hiss, and Ky quickly reached out and found a mess of limbs, claws, hot flesh and heaving breath. Without thinking, he grasped tight and pulled.

It really wasn’t the smartest idea. With a crash, Ky fell backward. Two solid, muscular bodies toppled on top of him and they all clattered out of the wardrobe door and onto his bedroom floor with a thud. The light was blinding to Ky’s addled senses as all the air knocked out of him. Red pain throbbed where he slammed against the hardwood and where the other two then crashed into him. He groaned weakly. His face was full of silky white hair, and he was pinned by bare flesh at every angle. Aches and dull throbbing pain ran through his body as he struggled to breathe. Damn, he was seriously starting to hate his wardrobe.

Ky tried to keep the room from spinning as his head gave a stubborn flare of pain where it hit the floor. Lovely continued to struggle with his attacker. His ears were folded back on his head and he hissed loudly as he slashed claws behind him. As he fought, Lovely pushed himself off of Ky to keep from crushing his fallen form.

Ky watched in a haze and wondered just what a concussion felt like. Maybe he fell out of bed and was dreaming the entire thing. Surely it would make more sense than having the pale, beautiful Lovely fight claw to claw with a golden, punkish looking ruffian who was snarling fangs while he pushed the slender catboy down to the ground and kissed him fiercely.

Ky released a weary sigh as his bruised and battered brain clicked something together.

Crap. Lovely had a boyfriend.

A jealous boyfriend who was not happy with him, or, at least, his clothes.

Maybe Lovely had a thing for people in clothing, and the feral, nude thing couldn’t compete? Ky just couldn’t catch a break. Stupid Blackstone Falls didn’t have any goddamn options for gay and gorgeous.

Ky tried to get up only to quickly dismiss the ridiculous notion as the room spun again and pain flared everywhere. No, he needed to fix this. He somehow got in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel. Given the two of them had no problem slashing the hell out of each other, he’d feel really bad if they did something they’d regret.

Ky rolled awkwardly to his side and tried not to groan in pain as he got onto his hands and knees. He was all skinned up; an elbow raw, one of his toes mangled on the lip of the wardrobe, not to mention the bruising everywhere.

“Please, stop fighting,” he croaked out and winced at the sound of his voice. No, he wasn’t doing well at all. “I didn’t know Lovely was spoken for, and, well…”

Wait. Why the hell was he apologizing? It wasn’t like he even had a chance to see Lovely, never mind ask if he was in a committed relationship. If anything, wasn’t Lovely just a really bad boyfriend for sleeping around with people who couldn’t see in the dark?

Ky shook the thought from his head, and grabbed his skull when it throbbed painfully in retaliation. “Hey, stop fighting!” he yelled and slammed his hand down on the floor. He was ignored. Lovely kicked the bronze skinned, muscular young man off him. Ky only had a moment to sit back with a plop as the catboy jumped up and followed after his target.

On Lovely’s back fluttered a pretty set of white wings. They were small, petite and flexed when he grabbed his tall attacker by the hair. Gold glinted from sharp ears reminiscent of a coyote. Ky just caught sight of the piercings right before Lovely twisted the furry triangles vindictively. Wardrobe guy was in serious trouble, and after what Ky went through, he didn’t feel remotely bad for him. Given the punkish hairdo of his golden blond and purple colored messy locks, as well as his eyebrow rings, the long scar which ran down half his face, and permanent snarl, the jerk was probably asking for trouble.

Wardrobe guy’s wings weren’t white like Lovely’s. They were black and feathery and made Ky wonder just what the hell both of the two creatures were. As cat-like as Lovely was, and as coyote-like as this jerk was, the wings just didn’t really make much sense.

Then again, nothing made a lot of sense lately.

What Ky first thought were just growls and snarls started to form a pattern. The two were having quite the argument in their respective language. His suspicions grew when Lovely pointed in his direction, hissed heatedly and wrenched one of the wardrobe guy’s ears. Ky flinched when the other’s gaze met his; his eyes were a startling gold with pinprick pupils full of malice.

Feral. The thing was absolutely feral and totally hated him.

As if to prove his point, the muscular attacker swiftly grabbed Lovely around the waist, pushed him down to the floor and bit him on the back of his neck. Lovely gave a loud cry and tried to push back up, but the other pinned him down with his larger body.

“Leave him alone!” Ky yelped. He stumbled forward on his knees, then stopped short when Feral glared up at him and growled with his teeth still buried in Lovely’s neck. Ky gulped. He hated he was hesitating. He knew the creature could totally tear him to pieces, and given his glare, would be happy to do it.

“Ky,” Lovely gasped out. He reached a clawed hand forward. Long strands of his white hair tangled around his arm.

Ky already had his face nearly slashed off. Not only did he fall into a bottomless pit in his wardrobe, but was crushed by two fighting creatures just after getting out of bed. He’d deal with the beating the fucking wardrobe guy wanted to give him.

“Lovely, I’m right here.” With a defiant glare into Feral’s golden eyes, Ky reached for Lovely’s hand. He gasped loudly when Lovely grasped his fingers and pulled him down roughly to the floor. Ky’s chin burned as it scraped against the hardwood painfully.

“Oww,” he groaned petulantly. No, it was not a good day.

Ky’s eyes cracked open, and he came face to face with Lovely’s mismatched gaze of blue and violet. “Lovely, that totally hurt…” he trailed off when Lovely cupped him by the head to pull his face closer, and his tongue licked out to move over the wound on his chin. Ky released an unsteady breath. His body felt like a hot, melted puddle of goo as Lovely’s tongue teased up and slid over his lips, then slipped between them firmly.

Ky’s eyes fluttered shut and he pressed closer. His mouth opened eagerly as his lips sealed with Lovely’s, who curled fingers into his dark hair and kissed him deeply.

There was a fierce growl and Ky immediately snapped his eyes open. Somehow he managed to forget about Lovely’s very angry boyfriend, who was glaring down at him.

Well, he assumed his boyfriend. They fought like they damn well might be dating, and the kissing could be a sign and all. But maybe the wardrobe guy was just a jerk who thought he should be allowed to kiss Lovely, and not actually his boyfriend?

There was no way Ky could win a fight against this weird, brutish creature for Lovely’s affection. Still, if he waited until Feral went back into the wardrobe, he could get a big padlock and chain and lock the jerk in there. With that thought hot in his mind, Ky dared to meet the golden glare burning into him.

Even though he had a scar running from his eyebrow all the way down to his jaw, Feral was actually really hot. Not in an aristocratic way like Lovely, but more like a model turned street thug with his heavy eyebrows and dangerous sharp eyes. His full red lips would probably look a lot nicer if he wasn’t snarling. What the hell was the guy’s problem, seriously? Was he, like, living in the damn wardrobe?

It was difficult to concentrate no matter how mean Feral’s snarl was. Lovely’s tongue again lapped over Ky’s face and teased against his lips.

“Lovely, uh, I don’t think this is the right time for… Oh. Okay.” There was just something about Lovely and it made him really dizzy. Ky gasped softly as he was pulled closer. Claws tickled the back of his head when Lovely lapped between his lips and stroked his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Ky barely noticed the hand slam down right next to his face. Lovely did. He pulled away to grab the offending wrist, and his otherworldly eyes glowed anger directed solely at Feral.

Ky couldn’t understand the exchange of words. Even though Lovely was shorter and delicate in appearance, he looked like he was more than capable of slashing Feral into ribbons. Ky bit his lower lip as his eyes were drawn to Lovely’s razor sharp fangs and narrowed eyes. Yeah, Lovely was a badass no matter how pretty he was. It sent a flutter through Ky’s stomach; he wasn’t sure if it was a good feeling or bad.

Feral gave another low growl and turned his glare back to Ky, who tried his best not to flinch.

“Stop being so mean,” Ky muttered. His chin pointed out defiantly as he struggled to push up from the ground. “I haven’t done a damn thing to you.” Feral slammed his other hand down and Ky yelped before he could stop from cringing away. “Asshole!”

Lovely hissed again, dragged Feral down, and slammed his head tight against the floor. Ky hesitated from trying to escape, unable to take his eyes off the catboy as he effortlessly pinned Feral. Yeah, Lovely was really hot when angry. Ky bit the side of his thumb as he watched the two growl in their angry language. Lovely was really strong, his muscles long and graceful, and nude body sleek and smooth. Even his strange ears and tail were sexy; claws, fangs, wings and all. Lovely definitely wasn’t human, neither were, but wow, they were seriously sexy.

Ky wasn’t sure what changed exactly since he was unable to understand what either of them were saying. Something in the timbre of Lovely’s voice and the way Feral’s glare turned smoldering made Ky swallow hard and his face heat up. Lovely ran his tongue over Feral’s scar and purred low in his ear. With a growl, Feral twisted and pinned him again. Lovely moaned as he was pushed face first down to the floor while Feral nipped at his shoulders and neck ravenously.

He should probably go. Really. Clearly Lovely wasn’t averse to being kissed by the wardrobe creep as much as he hoped. Ky couldn’t seem to get himself to move. He bit his thumb harder as he watched Lovely gasp and arch his ass up in the air. His elegant tail wrapped around Feral’s thigh and pulled him down on top of him.

Feral had strong looking hands. They were large, rough, and when he ran them over Lovely’s pale skin, part of Ky wanted to know what they felt like. Stupid. Feral slashed his face and was an absolute menace. Just, there was something in the way he was possessive, consuming and rough in his touch that made Ky’s breath grow short and his mouth dry when he thought what it would feel like to have such attention of his own. Lovely was definitely enjoying it. He moaned lowly and kept shifting his hips to ground back against Feral’s hard dick with rocking pushes.

Ky awoke alone. He lay in bed on his side with eyes cracked open blearily to the morning light, and tried to get his bearings. He dreamed the oddest thing. It was so very strange. Strange and, well, amazing.

Very amazing. Hot and crazy good. Still, it was really strange.

Ky squinted at the curtains and sighed softly. He felt weary and tired still. There might be something wrong in his head. Seriously, it was a really messed up thing to dream about. It was probably a sign he needed to get a boyfriend or something. It was one thing to have a wet dream about a guy. It was totally another to have one about a guy who he wasn’t certain was fully human.

He took him hard, completely, then held him until he drifted to sleep. Tasted and cleaned him all while purring soothingly. He was like some strange animal, human but not. Damn, it was good.

Yeah, there was definitely something wrong with his head.

Ky forced his sluggish limbs to move and rolled out of bed. The blanket dragged behind him around his waist. He was exhausted. Maybe his days of running up and down the stairs with heavy boxes were finally catching up.

Ky frowned and his stomach twisted as something hot and wet dripped down his thigh. He untangled from the blanket to find he was completely nude. Ky swallowed hard and looked around for his boxers. He could have just kicked them off in his sleep. Just got overheated. It didn’t mean he…

He found them in the sheets torn to shreds as if a wild animal clawed them. “Oh, fuck.” Ky gnawed on his bottom lip painfully as he thought. He hesitantly touched the wetness on his thigh and followed it up. His fingers brushed over his dripping pucker, and he groaned lowly. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, it wasn’t a dream.”

It had to be a dream. It had to be. His hole was leaking cum, and Ky had not, to the best of his knowledge, put his own up there, so there really was only one explanation. “Oh, dear god.”

He refused to look at the bed. Ky walked quickly to the bathroom, shut the door tightly behind him, and locked it. It didn’t make sense. There wasn’t some sort of humanoid creature living under his bed. Fuck, there better be. Otherwise there was just a weirdo human under his bed, and somehow that would be totally creepier. Especially with the rat eating.

What the hell did he do?

Ky stepped into the large shower and scrubbed himself pink while he tried to make sense of what he could remember of last night. The dark. Whatever the creature was, it lived in the dark. Almost like it crossed a portal or something.

Ky gasped and closed his eyes with a whimper when he washed between his crack. It felt good. No matter what the creature was, he felt so damn good. Ky slowly pushed a soap covered finger inside his entrance and groaned from the sensation of his flesh opening. Lovely felt big inside him. Powerful and forceful. Ky didn’t know he wanted to be taken, but after last night…

Hell, why couldn’t it have just been a dream?

Ky whimpered a mix of agony and despair, and pressed his face against the cool tile wall. The shower streamed hot water down his body while he pushed a second finger deep inside his hole. He gasped into the water as he stretched his sore entrance and cum dripped out around his thrusting fingers. He should be horrified. Disgusted. Hell, he should be looking for a shotgun, or knife or something to protect himself. He wasn’t any of those things. He was apparently really fucked in the head, and even more than that, horny as hell.

With eyes closed, Ky listened to the sounds of his muffled cries and beneath that, his fingers moving in and out of his hole with the wet noises of slapping flesh. He wanted the creature to own him. At that moment in the dark with Lovely sliding so full and thick inside him, Ky wanted truly to be owned. He didn’t know what it meant, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it now as he pushed a third finger inside his hot flesh and moaned loudly.

He came fast, surprisingly so. He was painfully aroused from thoughts of last night, and his fingers rubbed something spongy and maddening inside him that made him cry out. Ky stared blankly down at his cum streaked over the shower wall while he kept his fingers buried deep inside. God, what was wrong with him? He got off on, on something. What was it? Who was he?

He should go see. He should go into the bedroom, grab a flashlight, and see whoever the hell it was living under his bed.

Ky finished his shower reluctantly. The water turned cold and finally convinced him to pull away. He dried off slowly. His hair was slick on his head as he wrapped up in a towel and stepped into the bedroom. He stared at the bed but indecision made him hesitate.

What if nothing was there? What if he was just a crazy person who was having really vivid hallucinations? Wouldn’t that be a better answer than thinking there was some sort of monster under his bed who had, damn, fucked him last night?

Ky turned from the bed, his head spinning. He needed coffee. This would all make sense after some coffee. He pulled open the wardrobe and stifled an annoyed growl when the strange darkness again flooded the space. He glared toward the side corner challengingly where he felt eyes peering back, and carefully reached his hand for a shirt.

Nothing. No scratch, no nothing. Fine, he was losing his mind.

He grabbed a pair of jeans and dressed in them, then ruffled his hair with the towel. He scowled when he pulled his shirt down over his head. There was a huge rip in the front. Nope, make that four rips. Ky stepped to the bureau mirror and stared at his reflection. It actually looked kind of hot. The wardrobe was eating his clothes, but at least it looked good.

Ky scooped the empty bowl of milk up and brought it with him downstairs where he switched it out for a fresh bowl and fresh milk. His mother was nowhere to be found, but he could see his dad in the yard talking to a neighbor. Ky wasn’t sure what he wanted to say to Marcus, but he felt like he needed to say something about all this craziness. With a sigh, he walked back up the stairs and pushed into his room.

When he bent down to place the milk next to the bed, he paused, and ducked lower so he could see into the darkness. He could hear breathing, faint and calming. He almost called out, almost went to say something to acknowledge he was pretty sure he was losing his mind and he really wanted whoever was there to answer. He bit his tongue and stayed quiet.

There was a creaking behind him and Ky quickly stood. He turned as the wardrobe door swung open wide. There was nothing to see, his clothes in a shroud of black inky darkness. Ky wasn’t sure what the hell was in his wardrobe, but he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t Lovely.

Right, it was time to talk to his dad.

“So, what do you think?” Livia Scion pushed the door open, waved her arms and did a slow turn. It was Ky’s new room, and with one look he knew it was beyond perfect.

“Mom, it has to be the biggest room in the house,” Ky exclaimed as he looked around with wide, silver eyes. The space was massive and felt more like a studio apartment than a room in the family manor where they just moved. There were hardwood floors stained chocolate black, floor to ceiling windows that let in dazzling sunlight, and a luxurious king sized bed that didn’t even make a dent in the space. Even with its matching wardrobe, bureau, and desk. There was a leather couch and armchair by the fireplace—because there was a fireplace in his bedroom. It was crazy; a bedroom, living room and office all in one, and through the door across the room he could see a full sized master bath. Awesome.

“Mom, it’s too much. You and dad should take this room. I’m sure I’ll be fine in something, well, normal sized.” It killed Ky to say it, but he knew in a few years he’d be done with college and out of the house anyways.

“Tut, you. This room just screams ‘Ky,’ and dad agrees with me.” With a grin, Livia pointed up to the ceiling. Ky followed her gaze and gasped when he caught sight of the four large stone gargoyles leering down from a ledge, one on each wall of the room. “Marcus could never sleep with those things in here; you know how he gets. Look at the windows. Just think how much art you can make with light like this. And the space! Ky, you could do all your painting in your room with the right ventilation. Heck, you might never leave the house again.”

His mom was very, very persuasive and Ky really wanted the room. It was perfect. He crossed to the windows and looked out into the backyard. Down below, an ancient wrought iron fence glinted dark among the overgrown shrubs; both wrapped around the manor and yard. Roses bloomed erratic red explosions among the wild green. Behind the bushes was a neglected orchard with twisted pear, apple, and peach trees tangled among vines and grass. The place truly was beautiful in a worn down way.

The dilapidated Scion Manor had been empty for years with none of their relatives willing to live there. Ky didn’t remember his grandfather, but he did recall being young when he learned he disappeared. Anselm Scion had left no specific will as to who was to inherit the manor among his five children. Ky’s Uncle Alex took ownership of the home as the eldest son, but none of Anselm’s children wanted to live there for long.

Ky’s dad, Marcus, recently decided it was time to give the huge place a shot. Coincidentally around the same time Ky found family dinners consisted of canned beans and pasta most nights. It was why he chose not to complain about being ripped out of his home of many years in the suburbs to be stuck in the small, backwater town. Apparently, his parents were trying to make it up to him with an amazing act of bribery. It was working.

“Mom, it’s too much. I love it, I do, but it’s nearly the entire floor.” It was literally half the third floor; the bedroom and bathroom took up the length of the back of the house. Still, Ky couldn’t pull away from the view of the sprawling mountains and fluffy clouds on the horizon even as he told himself he couldn’t keep the room.

Livia walked over to the wardrobe; the large oak furniture dwarfed her petite height and slim form. She threw the doors open wide, and glanced back to her son. “Too late. We already put your clothes away. Nothing can be done about it now.” She flashed him a cheeky smile. “You can store your finished art in the room across the hall, or paint there. Or you could turn it into a gallery. You’ve got a lot of options in a place like this, and Marcus wants to give you the whole third floor. And really, Ky, there’s so much room where we’re sleeping. You’re not taking anything from us. We’ll never need all this space.”

When he caught sight of his black clothing, studded belts, and silver chains hanging in the large wardrobe, Ky couldn’t help but beam. “Well, when you put it that way. Let me help you get all your stuff in.” He tore himself from the window but Livia stopped him at the door.

“Hold on. Something else comes with this room.” Livia pulled a jangle of silver from her pocket and smirked at her spiky haired son. “It’s going to be hard to get into your room without your keys.”

“Sweet!” Ky grabbed the metal key ring enthusiastically, only to blink when he saw it properly. “Three?”

“Yup. House key, garage, and bedroom.” His mother pointed each one out. “They’re pretty cool, right? They look ancient.” The manor keys were longer than normal, narrow and odd shaped, almost like skeleton keys.

“They’re beautiful. I’ve never had a lock on my door before. Not that I need it,” he added. Still, Ky loved the idea. His parents always gave him his privacy, but there was something empowering about being able to lock his door whenever he was painting.

“Well, I imagine you’ll want to bring someone home one day,” Livia said teasingly.

“Mom.” Ky blushed and turned to escape. “I seriously doubt that’s going to happen while living in Blackstone Falls. I’m probably the only gay guy in the whole damn town.”

Livia crossed her arms over her chest. Her smile turned sad as she followed Ky down the hall and to the stairs. “I’m sure you’ll meet someone at the college. I know it’s a community college, but you still get students coming in from all over the state. Your world is going to be a bit bigger than this little town.”

Ky nodded but he didn’t quite believe her. They moved to Blackstone Falls so his parents could start a landscaping company. Everyone in the town was either farmers, hippies, drunk, or the wealthy who chose to dwell there half the year with their large houses left empty during the winter months. The area was a sprawling mix of extreme poverty and wealth, including the towns around them. Most of the inhabitants were dull and hostile to what Ky was; it was something he found out quickly when he visited his uncle and cousins while they tried to live in the manor a couple of years ago.

First Ky was ostracized for being a city kid. Then it was for being a weirdo freak who believed in magic, dressed in black, and wore makeup. Once the locals figured out he was gay, it was just the icing on the shit cake for the redneck bigots his cousins hung out with. He wasn’t expecting college in the area to be much different.

It didn’t matter. Ky was going to become a skilled artist and move to the city. He didn’t need to be famous; he couldn’t really stand much attention as it was. He just wanted to make a living with his art. No one looked at his eyeliner and nail polish twice in the city. Some definitely liked how he looked in black lipstick. He knew a few farm boys had, which only made their taunts all the more ironic when they were hard over him. Ky didn’t care. There was a place out in the world where he fit, and he was willing to wait to get there.

“Hun, before you run off. Can you bring some things down to the basement? The stairs are steep, so be careful.”

“Sure, Mom.” Ky followed Livia down the main stairs to the first floor where boxes were waiting outside the closed basement door. There were more than a few, and he decided to have a glass of water before dealing with more lugging.

“Hey there, kiddo. What do you think of your new digs?” Marcus asked when Ky stepped into the kitchen. His brow was furrowed as he tore through a box in search for silverware. With gray just starting to frost his short, dark hair, Ky’s father looked more like an advertisement for outdoor living than the engineer of many years he once was. Fit and tanned, he adapted to being laid off quickly, and rose to the challenge of working with his hands like he had in his teenage years.

“I love it. Still, I think you’re going to regret giving me the biggest room in the house.” Ky went straight to the pack of water on the floor and grabbed a bottle.

Marcus shook his head and peered up with a serious look from behind his glasses. “I don’t say this to be dramatic, Ky, but this place, in particular Anselm’s old room, gives me the willies. The last place I want to sleep is up there. Even Uncle Alex didn’t sleep there.”

Ky tried not to smile. His father was very ‘sensitive,’ as Livia liked to put it. He was frightened of anything occult, to the point Ky used to fight his dad just to watch movies about magic when he was younger. Marcus may have relaxed a bit over the years, but he still got freaked out over everything from ghost stories to Ouija boards. Marcus’s extreme fear was what first sparked Ky’s interest in the occult. It also kept him only scratching the surface, respectful of the powers that could harm him if mishandled.

“Well, I’m glad you get the willies dad, if only because I get that amazing room. The view is spectacular, and I already know what I’m going to paint.”

“The gargoyles?” Marcus asked knowingly. He frowned at the idea of canvases of the ugly creatures littering the house.

“Exactly.” Ky thought they were beautiful, if not a bit grotesque, and couldn’t wait to unpack all his equipment. Even if he only found his sketchbook and did some graphite work that night, he’d be happy. “Mom asked me to drag some things down to the basement. Anything else here that needs going down while I’m at it?”

Marcus shook his head and his jaw tightened. “Ky, be careful in the basement. I don’t like it down there.”

Ky kept his smile to himself. His dad was an overgrown toddler. “You know the washer and dryer are down there, right? You’re going to start smelling if you never go in the basement,” he called cheerfully to his father while he made his way down the hall.

Ky went to open the basement door, only to find it jammed. The wood was expanded, most likely from moisture. He wrestled with the door and finally managed to pry it open with a loud wrenching noise.

A dank smell greeted him, and he wrinkled his nose and peered into the absolute blackness of the unknown space before him. The dim afternoon light of the hallway only penetrated a foot or so past the door. Ky shivered and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. It felt like something was staring back at him, level with his height. His eyes began to adjust enough to see a thin chain hanging down connected to a bare light bulb.

Ky wasn’t sure why he hesitated. When he stepped forward and reached for the chain, the floorboard creaked in warning under his sneakers. There was a sudden puff of hot air, almost as if someone or thing was breathing on his face, followed by the overwhelming scent of blood. Startled, Ky yanked the cord roughly. The light blinked on to reveal he was alone on the top step. The only thing in sight was a dizzying flight of stairs leading down to a concrete landing below. Clearly his dad’s superstitions were getting to him.

Ky stood on the top step for a moment, and tried to shake the feeling someone was just out of reach, breathing in his ear. He was being stupid. He huffed at his foolishness and turned and picked up a large box. He carefully stepped down the steep wooden stairs and looked around. Patches of darkness filled the dim space where the bare light bulb was blocked. Tall, thick columns created the perfect hiding places for murderers and nightmares. Ky muttered his idiocy under his breath, and walked the spacious, bare cement floor so he could place the box next to the table set up as a laundry station.

He went back and forth up the creaking stairs, his heart hammering in his chest the entire time. He smelled blood. Ky was once in the back room of a butcher shop to pick up an order for the restaurant he worked at. He knew the smell of blood. Currently, it was thick in the air, and with it, the underlying scent of rot. When the last box was piled high, Ky turned to make his escape. He stopped, his foot raised in mid-air when he heard the clink of chains.

There was a space behind the water heater where a small wall held the device in place in the middle of the room. The light didn’t reach behind the wall. Ky’s eyes turned to the inky darkness, certain the sound came from there. Again he thought he heard breathing, low and strained, and so close it could have been next to him. It sent strange, hot tingles shivering down to his toes. His heart beat louder in his ear.

It had to be the water heater. The old pipes and settling house. There were no chains to rattle. Even if chains were in the dark, they would only move because he left the basement and front doors open, which would create a breeze for anything very real to rattle.

“Oh, crap!” Ky slapped his hand over his mouth when the chains rattled again. This time something slithered over the concrete floor. Like a foot… Very much like a foot. Ky stepped backward, his eyes fixed on the darkness where he was certain something was staring back, and skirted toward the basement stairs. Once his heel hit the raised concrete platform, he whirled and ran up the stairs two at a time. He tripped twice and bruised his hand but refused to stop. He didn’t care if he was acting like an absolute idiot. There was something in the basement that smelled of blood, and he wasn’t going to hang around to meet it.

Ky shut the door behind him, and slammed it with his full weight until the swollen wood fit back and finally latched closed. He rested there while panting and trying to calm his racing heart. He was apparently going to smell as bad as Marcus because there was no way in hell he was going down there again.

Ky stared down at his sneakers, paused, and raised his right foot. There was blood all on the white wall of his rubber sole. “What the…? Eww.” He jumped away from the basement door where half a rat stared blankly up at him. It was dead and wedged in the gap at the bottom of the door. He killed a rat while slamming the door! “Shit… Shit!”

Marcus peeked his head out of the living room, and made a face when he saw what Ky was cursing at. “There’s a cat living around here. At least, there used to be when Dad was here; I never saw the damn thing. It should take care of any rats.”

“Didn’t Anselm die almost fifteen years ago?” Ky reminded. He scraped his bloodied shoe on the floor and tried to shake his unease now he was in the calming light of the main house. “I doubt the cat is still alive.”

Marcus shrugged, and his eyes took on a faraway look. “My father had a lot of strange creatures we never saw. He loved that cat, had it before I was born. I’m sure it’s still around. He used to feed it a feast every night. Usually of something still alive…” he trailed off with a frown and left to find something to clean up the dead rat.

Ky shook his head in disbelief. Marcus didn’t talk much about Anselm, except to remark Ky looked a lot like him with his dark hair, colorless gray eyes, and pale skin. Since there were few pictures, Ky had to take his word for it, and the insistence of his aunts and uncles who always seemed unnerved when he visited. Anselm was a very odd parent. Reclusive and stern, he left his wife to raise his five children. When she died, Anselm rarely made contact with his family. Then, one day he disappeared.

Ky sometimes wondered if his dad was expecting Anselm to just show up out of the blue, even after all this time. It was crazy when he considered the old guy had to be in his late nineties by now. They assumed Anselm grew confused in his last days, maybe even touched with dementia. The authorities were sure he went for a walk, only to be lost in the wilds surrounding the house. They suspected his unfound body was picked apart by animals. Anselm was a recluse for so long it was easy enough to imagine.

Marcus came back with a plastic bag and bent over to scoop the pieces of flesh and fur up. Ky helped wrench the door open and stared warily with his father down into the illuminated basement. The bottom half of the rat was nowhere to be found. There was a trail of blood; it streaked down the stairs and ended abruptly. With a glance at Ky, Marcus reached forward and tugged the cord to the light. He shut the door firmly after the darkness returned. Ky tried not to think of how he felt the weight of eyes on him right before the door closed.

“There’s a laundry mat in the center of town,” Marcus said quietly as he wrapped up the rat with a rustle. “Alex and his family used it all the time.”

Ky shivered, his eyes fixed on the bloodied form being entombed in plastic. No one wanted to sleep in Anselm’s old room. His new bedroom. Suddenly it seemed important since none of his relatives liked the basement either. Ky wanted to say something to his dad about how he heard the chains and smelled blood downstairs, but decided against it. Marcus had enough to worry about with getting his business to pick up and bills covered. It was probably best if he made things as pleasant as possible for his parents. Things were difficult enough already.

Sage had managed to get to school without Corey waking up, his brother having stumbled in drunk some time around dawn and promptly falling asleep. School had been difficult, impossible to concentrate with so many thoughts running through his head never mind feelings through his body. The shifter had not been in the alley. Sage had checked. He wasn’t even sure why just that he had to know that Heller was really gone. Whether he wanted the man to still be there or not, Sage still wasn’t sure. His body was aching and he couldn’t stop thinking about the night before.

Taylor was waiting for him after school, soft ash blond hair and bright blue eyes setting him apart from the others. Taylor was a really odd kid, looking very much sweet and weak and even shorter than Sage was. But the boy was vicious when he needed to be, a switch inside his friend that turned Taylor into a wild, angry thing that would defend himself and friends at any cost. That was how they had become friends to begin with.

Sage had seen the boy being picked on and gone to help, only to be as surprised as the bullies to find that Taylor was plain crazy, biting and punching back with a rock in his fist. He had burst out laughing, seeing such a sweet looking kid go nuts and win. Bullies always underestimated him too, and it just seemed right to hang with Taylor after that.

“You get home alright last night?” Taylor asked, slipping in step with Sage, hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans. “I wish you had let me go with you. You know how I worry.”

Sage nodded mutely, not sure what he wanted to tell his friend just yet. He was in trouble, he knew that much. His body was aching, each step he took making his hole throb in memory and unceasing want.

“Sage… you kinda smell, man,” Taylor said, glancing over at him. “And not a garbage smell from the Wastes. Something musky, almost.” He stopped, grabbing the brunette’s hand when the boy tried to walk by him. “What are those marks on your neck?”

Sage ducked away, covering his neck. His flesh had only gotten darker as he slept, bruises blossoming purple in the morning light. “Shit, is it really noticeable?”

“That someone’s been sucking on your neck? Yeah, it fucking is. What the hell happened last night?”

“Oh god, Corey’s going to kill me,” Sage gasped frantically, eyes wide in fear. “Literally kill me. Tayls, I need makeup or some shit. I need to hide this. You know how he gets—He’s going to slice me up so bad, I’ll never move again!”

“Calm down, Sage. Just stop and breathe.” Looking around at the students in the distance, Taylor pulled his friend down the street, heading for his neighborhood. “Start at the beginning and we’ll figure out how to fix it.”

Sage nodded weakly, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Tayls… do werewolves ever… fuck people on the full moon?” He asked quietly, staring at his sneakers.

Taylor stopped walking, scratching the back of his head. “Umm… why do you…?”

Sage ducked his head, edging closer to whisper into the blond’s ear. “When they’re transformed, do they ever… fuck people?” He asked again, blushing brightly.

“I don’t…” Taylor glanced around, speaking quietly. “Yeah, I think so. Not something I’ve seen firsthand, or anything, but they talk about it sometimes. I guess there are some people that really, er, like it.”

“What about shifters?” Sage asked, fidgeting under his friend’s stare.

“Do werewolves fuck shifters?” Taylor asked, looking confused.

“No… damn it.” Sage got right into Taylor’s ear, feeling the blond shiver from his breath. “Do transformed shifters screw a lot of people?”

“Um… maybe? There was this girl once, sister to one of the shifters. The gang had said things about her. About her letting dogs do her and stuff. Why? Did you see something last night?” Taylor stepped back, looking Sage over cautiously. His friend looked different, his already pale skin nearly translucent, lips flushed a deep red, green eyes bright and glowing.

Sage had always been kind of pretty, singled out for his delicate features and slender form. The kid was tough with a terrible brother that kept most bullies away just by existing, but Taylor had taken it on himself to protect Sage as much as he could. The boy was just so nice, stuck in a bad situation with his brother and was the most loyal friend a guy could want. Seeing the brunette now, he had to wonder if maybe Sage might have been getting a different sort of attention looking the way he did.

Glancing around nervously, Sage pulled Taylor into a blind alley, making sure no one was walking by or that any windows were open. “I… I don’t know how to say this,” he mumbled, rocking from foot to foot. “It’s really, really fucked up and… and I don’t know if…”

“Just say it,” Taylor demanded, grabbing Sage by the shoulders. “I don’t care, just tell me. Was it Corey? Did he kill one of them?”

Sage shook his head, fingers tangling in his hair as he tugged his chocolate locks in frustration. “I met a shifter.”

Eyes widening, Taylor pressed his hand over the brunette’s mouth, looking around the alley to make sure that no one was definitely there. “Are you fucking serious? Did he hurt you?”

Sage bit his lip, unable to meet his friend’s concerned gaze. “A little… I don’t think he meant to. There’s something wrong with me, Tayls. I think someone might have, have cursed me or something.”

“Why would you…? Just tell me what happened,” Taylor muttered, ducking his head so his friend could whisper in his ear. Blue eyes widening in shock, Taylor began to curse under his breath as Sage poured out the events of the last night in halting sentences. “Holy fuck, Sage. Shit… Shit! How did you even go to school after that? How are you just fucking standing there and not fucking freaking out or something? He—Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t yell.” Taylor stepped away, kicking the nearest thing he could find, a soda can clattering loudly down the pavement.

Sage continued to tug at his hair agitatedly, watching Taylor’s sneakers as the blond paced. “I gotta find a way to hide the marks, Tayls,” he whispered, flinching when the blond reeled and turned on him.

“You’ve just been fucking raped!” Taylor covered his mouth, glaring at the entrance to the alley. Ducking his head, he whispered furiously into Sage’s ear. “You should go to a doctor. Make sure he didn’t give you something. Who the fuck knows what kinds of diseases shifters have?”

Sage just shook his head, his anxiety growing. “If I go to a doctor, they’ll want to talk to Corey. The shifter is not the issue right now. If Corey finds out, I’m fucking dead!”

“He wouldn’t—Would he? Is he that fucked up that…” Taylor trailed off, eyes closing. Corey was that fucked up. He wouldn’t care how or why, just that Sage had been tainted by a shifter.

“Please, Tayls, I don’t know what to do,” Sage pleaded softly, watching the emotions swirl on his friend’s face. “There’s something wrong with me. The shifter said I had a scent that made him that way. And Corey smelled me last night and you just did now. I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay. Okay, we’re going to fix this. I just… just have to ask for help.” Taylor looked at his friend warily, again taking in the brunette’s strangely beautiful features. Whatever had changed in his friend, it wasn’t just the odd, musky scent. He looked different too, possibly magically different. “First we’re going to get you a hoodie to cover you up. I got something big at home you can wear. And then… then I’m going to call Jared,” he added under his breath.

“But Jared’s a werewolf,” Sage said fretfully.

“Yes, and werewolves know magic,” Taylor replied as evenly as possible, trying to ignore the feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. “So if you’ve really been cursed to… to make shifters want to do that… Well, he’ll be able to help.”

Fidgeting, Sage eventually nodded, letting Taylor grasp his arm and lead him towards his house. “Just… we can’t tell Corey. If he finds out that I’m talking to a werewolf… I already get in trouble because you talk to them.”

“I know, Sage, and I’m sorry about that. We’re going to disguise you so no one will know it’s you.”

Taylor’s mom had once had a fling with a werewolf, the man passing through their lives very briefly. But Taylor had been drawn to the lifestyle the werewolves had led while they were dating, never having to worry about anyone preying on his family or trying to cheat his mom out of her hard earned money and house. Taylor had figured if he were a werewolf, maybe he could protect his family the same way.

“He won’t… he won’t think I want to be one, right?” Sage whispered, Taylor unlocking the door to the small house he lived in and quickly jostling the brunette inside.

“I’ll let him know, not that it matters. They have so many damn hoops you have to jump through,” Taylor said bitterly. “Jared says they won’t even consider me until I’m twenty-five—Which is fucking bullshit because I’ve seen way younger than me. But that’s Frey for you. He’s one of the better pack leaders and has rules like that to keep from being totally terrible like the other gangs.”

Taylor left Sage drinking a glass of orange juice in the kitchen while he rustled up a large, black sweatshirt out of his closet. Grabbing a toothpick, he chewed on it mindlessly while looking around his room. His eyes fell on a pair of sunglasses on his bureau and he quickly snatched them, bringing both downstairs to his friend.

Sage dressed while Taylor used his special cellphone to contact Jared. There would be no way the werewolf would come to his house. It just wasn’t smart, even with Ms. Hunt out and working at the hospital. Taylor’s mom was not a fan of what her son had been slowly getting into, having seen firsthand the consequences of the werewolf gangs and the people that tried to cross them.

“Come on. He says he’ll meet us at The Den,” Taylor said abruptly, pocketing his phone. Sighing, he pulled the hood over Sage’s hair. “I know it’s hot out, but you have to stay covered so you won’t be recognized.” Taylor didn’t bother mentioning that he’d run across way too many fucked up werewolves that would think someone as pretty as Sage was fair game. Jared was his sponsor, protecting him from any ill attention even though he wasn’t officially in with Frey’s pack yet. Another perk with joining a proper werewolf pack and not some bunch of fucked up creeps that thought just because they could transform on the full moon they could hurt anyone they liked.

Sage let Taylor pull him out of the house, his head spinning, stomach tight with anxiety as they headed for the bus. He had made a point to avoid the werewolves; after nearly being murdered by one as a child, Sage really didn’t trust any of them. Taylor was the only reason he was even considering this, and mostly because his friend was as street smart as they came. If Taylor thought the werewolves were his only chance to fix whatever had happened to him, then Sage was willing to give it a shot.

Sage ran faster, his blood roaring in his ears. Beneath the sound of his heart frantically beating, he could hear it still; claws clicking on cement. It was dark and he had waited too long to go home after leaving his friend Taylor’s. His blond friend had offered to walk with him, but that would have just left Taylor to walk home alone at an even later, more dangerous hour. Sage’s brother would never let someone like Taylor stay at their place overnight, not when the boy hung out with the werewolves.

There was a loud huff, then a growl. Green eyes widening, Sage caught sight of an off shoot, an alleyway connecting streets together. If he could get over to Washington St. where the bars and bright lights were, he might be okay. As if reading his thoughts, there was a low howl, chilling and hungry. It made his knees weak and Sage stumbled to a halt. Dimly he realized that no other voices had raised to join the cry. The shifter was alone, stalking him down without a pack.

Oh god, what was wrong with him? He felt so hot all of a sudden. Not just from the running, but from the sound of the wolf, blue eyes glowing out of the darkness as it panted. “L-Leave me alone,” Sage said weakly, stepping back away from the intense stare. “I’m not… I’m not a werewolf. Your kind are supposed to be able to smell that. I’m just a guy… so leave me alone.”

He had reached the alley, brick rubbing his shoulder coarsely as he turned and nearly barreled backward, just catching the corner to keep from falling. His shoulder ached from how his arm had wrenched. And something else… Something else ached inside him, his legs shaking and feeling heavy. The shifter kept approaching, head low, a dark shadow stalking forward.

Sage knew it was a shifter and not a real wolf. Real wolves didn’t get as big. Something about the magic that allowed shifters to transform into animals also made them look more beautiful than the real creatures out of nature. The black wolf was otherworldly in appearance, silky looking blue-black fur and ice blue eyes. It was looking at him almost as if trying to figure out what he was, nose scenting the air.

Biting his lip, Sage hesitantly held his hand out. Once the shifter smelled him, he would know he wasn’t a werewolf. The shifters and werewolves didn’t get along. Dogtowne was the border where both packs fringed. The name was ironic given that any real dog had been killed off by the cursed werewolves years ago. The werewolves liked to kill the shifters, and the shifters liked to kill them back. Hopefully hanging around with Taylor hadn’t gotten too much werewolf smell on him. Taylor wasn’t a werewolf but he wanted to be.

“Stop!” Sage gasped, the wolf loping up to him and reaching its terrible fangs right at his hand. But the boy had held his hand out, something the shifter recognized enough to approach.

It was so much bigger close up. Sage was small even though full grown, slender and wiry-limbed from never getting a full meal. With his messy chocolate hair and bright green eyes, he was constantly being mistaken for much younger. The wolf stretched out nose to tail tip would likely be as tall as him and much heavier and stronger. Swallowing nervously, Sage raised his hand again, watching his thin fingers shake. The wolf pressed its large maw to his hand, breathing deeply, a low whine falling from its mouth.

Sage had only ever seen one other shifter up close. He had been a wolf too, bright white fur, maybe the same size of this one or even larger. A long time ago when Sage had been just a child, his parents were killed by warring werewolf packs. He had run, a transformed werewolf chasing after him, humanoid and muscular with terrible claws and slavering jaws. Everyone knew werewolves ate children during the full moon and Sage had not wished to be a meal.

He hadn’t known if the white wolf had come to save him or to just kill a werewolf. The shifter had died, the injured werewolf lurching and staggering away while the wolf bled out. Sage had cried, watching the fluffy fur stained scarlet turn into a tall, powerful looking man, blood pouring from his throat. He had been beautiful, long white-blond hair and pale eyes. His skin had nearly been as white as the wolf’s fur.

He had tried to help the shifter, but Sage’s brother had found him. Corey had screamed at him for going near such a filthy, horrible monster and pulled him away. Corey didn’t care that the shifter had saved Sage. He hated all of them, shifters and werewolves.

Staring at the icy eyes of the dark creature still sniffing his hand and wrist, Sage wondered what the man looked like. They were all males, the shifter gene stuck on the Y-chromosome. Not all men were shifters, but all shifters were male. They were also usually very handsome, or so Sage had been told. The shifters didn’t come into the city as people. The werewolves could smell what they were and would hunt them down quick enough. Moving as a wolf was much faster.

“S-See? I told you I wasn’t a werewolf,” Sage stammered, foot slipping back to creep away. The wolf growled at him, the boy freezing and biting his lip. What if the rumors were true? What if the shifters were just as terrible as the werewolves and if they got hungry enough they might just eat a person?

Sweat trickled down his neck. The wolf didn’t look particularly skinny, more compact muscle and nicely kept fur. But maybe it was just well fed on stupid humans that didn’t know better than to wait until daylight to travel?

Sage cautiously peeked over his shoulder. There was a large dumpster blocking most of his view. Only as far as two towering apartment buildings away were city lights, neon and garish. If he ran for them, he might make it. The shifter wouldn’t risk being around a huge population. The werewolves roamed at night, partying with their human crew of gangsters. Surely the shifter would avoid a bar full of both.

Decided, heart slamming in his chest, Sage turned and ran. He made it about three feet before he tripped, blind to the black plastic bag of trash that had been right by his foot. He fell heavily, the concrete jarring his bones, everything spinning for frantic, dizzy minutes. “Shit—Oh fuck, get off me,” he whimpered, the wolf growling and biting the collar of his shirt, paws and a great weight pinning him hard to the ground by his shoulders.

Sage felt so hot and dizzy. There was something wrong with him, some sort of fever. There was a musky, strange smell around him that had nothing to do with the garbage only feet away. He thought maybe it was the wolf. The creature was tearing at his shirt with its vicious teeth, pulling a long slash down the fabric, a ripping noise loud in his ears.

It was going to eat him. Peel his clothes off and eat him like a bag of dog food. As if to validate the terrifying thought, the wolf began to lick over Sage’s exposed back, its slippery pink tongue lapping down, stealing the spots of blood its claws had caused while it continued to stand on top of him. Sage should have been terrified but there was something wrong with him at the moment. His body felt so hot, so achingly tight and hard. He woke up some mornings, heated dreams fading where he felt like this. He had never felt it while awake. He could be dreaming… that would make more sense.

“Oh god… please stop,” Sage groaned, teeth nipping at his shoulder and shooting fire through him. He shouldn’t like this. It was a shifter and a male. Sage wasn’t supposed to like guys… or wolves. “Oh… oh hell…” The tongue moved lower, down his back, licking the dip of his waist and leaving trails of wet on his skin. He wondered if it would go lower—If he should help the shifter get his jeans off so it would lick even lower.

Eyes squeezed shut, Sage silently cursed himself. He shouldn’t want that. What kind of freak wanted that? God, he was so hard, though.

While he fought with his body’s confusing desires, the shifter nipped at his waistband, sinking teeth in and pulling his jeans down. They were too tight, Sage gasping with each tug of fabric that pulled snug on his erection. He was going crazy. Shifters might eat a person, but they didn’t fuck them. At least, he didn’t think they did. His brother had suggested something disgusting along the lines of it, but Corey always said gross stuff about sex. The man thought everything about sex was filthy, including wanting it. Sage was, unfortunately, feeling very filthy at the moment.

Unable to hold back any longer, he reached down, fighting with the clasp of his jeans and unbuttoning them one handed. He unzipped slowly, the wolf stilling as he heard the metal teeth unfurl. Panting, Sage raised his hips when the shifter tugged again, the heavy fabric giving way, pulling down his narrow hips and then slender thighs with each wrench and snarl, leaving his exposed flesh stinging on the rough concrete. God, what was he doing?

A hard nose pressed against his ass, his briefs the only protection from the hot snuffles and sharp teeth. The shifter was smelling him, down his crack, pushing between his cheeks, breathing in the musk of his balls. Sage bit his lip hard, trying to keep from moaning with each touch. Maybe this was all it wanted. Just to smell him and learn whatever the hell it was canines learned from sniffing each other. That Sage was getting hard, his cock dripping precum was really just something fucked up with him.

It was apparently not enough, the wolf huffing and nipping at the thin material of his underwear, stretching it from the boy’s golden skin. It got his briefs halfway down his thighs, the material snagging on the front around Sage’s embarrassingly hard dick. The nose returned with prickling whiskers and damp heat, nuzzling and wedging between his pert cheeks with clear intent. Sage could not stop from crying out loudly, his hips jolting forward.

“Why are you…? Oh god… that’s bad… really, really bad,” Sage mumbled mindlessly, the slippery tongue delving, tasting his bare ass and sac, sliding around to lap at his hard cock. Then it wiggled between his cheeks and lighted over the pucker of his hole. “It’s dirty… so dirty,” he whispered, his face and neck bright red. But it felt so good.

Corey had promised to beat him if he ever masturbated like some degenerate, freak pervert. His older brother used to beat Sage whenever he caught him getting hard. Sometimes even doing stuff to hurt him that made him hard and then punishing him for it after. Only sick freaks liked that. Corey still did that sometimes, usually after getting drunk and extra mean. Sage still couldn’t stop from getting hard, just showing how fucked up he was.

The tongue kept moving, nose pushing relentlessly against his crack, spreading his cheeks wider as it slipped over his entrance again and again. The wolf nosed lower, pushing at Sage’s thighs, forcing him up onto his knees while the boy’s slender legs trembled. Then again, slipping deep between his cheeks, tasting him more from the new angle, dripping trails of saliva down his pale inner thighs.

“D-Don’t—You shouldn’t… oh fuck—Oh fuck, you’re gonna…” Sage sobbed weakly, realizing what was coming next. He was surrounded by silky fur, black and suffocating as it rubbed on his bare back, ass and thighs. The wolf settled heavily on his sloped torso, paws clutching his narrow, heaving chest. Sage could feel hot splatters of liquid, each hump of the wolf’s hard cock adding another stream of wet to his thighs and ass.

Face pressed up tight to the dingy bathroom mirror of his small apartment, eyes slit open so he could just make out his own dazed blue orbs, Beau forced another soap lubed finger into his aching hole. Gasping loudly, he pushed it as deep as he could get, not caring that it stung, that his flesh felt so raw and sore already. He couldn’t stop. It was Friday, he had woken up after dreaming of everything Darien had done to him last Tuesday, and his entire body was crying for more.

“Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, driving his two fingers in deep, gaping when his hole was stretched wider as he spread them. “Fuck, please… Please…”

He was losing his mind.

Whimpering lowly, he began thrusting in and out of his clenching passage, hissing from the feel of his fingers scraping his burning hot flesh. He couldn’t stop. Had been wanting it so bad. Needing it so much. He had tried to hold back, had tried to not be this way, but every time he was alone too long, Beau remembered. And when he remembered, he needed to feel it again. Needed to be taken. Owned. Exposed and humiliated. It was wrong, and so fucked up, and it was making him so unbearably hard.

Pulling his head off the mirror, he panted loudly, his breath bouncing back hot on his face as he took in his creamy skin flushed red, brilliant blue eyes and golden shoulder length hair. His brows were furrowed, mouth open wide, tongue tip brushing his bottom lip as he groaned. He looked like a slut. Like some sort of man whore just begging to be fucked. And he was. He was secretly begging for his muscular, young student to walk into his bathroom and replace his fingers with his own thick ones. Maybe even that big dick of his.

Slamming his fingers deeper into his hole, Beau jerked his hips against the wall, rubbing his aching dick against the cool surface. He released a weak cry, then another as his body clamped down so tight on his digits. Close. God, he was so close. Just thinking about Darien got him so hard, so ready. How the tall boy had pushed him down over his desk, fingered him in front of his students. Humiliated him. Degraded him. Got him off so fucking good.

Beau came with a cry, his cum streaking the wall in long streams as he bucked on his fingers buried deep inside him. Fuck. Fuck, he was losing it.

Panting heavily, he ran his tongue out, licking up the mirror, moaning from the smooth feel of cool glass on his hot flesh. Before he knew it he was sliding down the wall, seeking out his dripping cum, licking it off the surface while remembering how Darien had held him by his hair and forced him to lick his desk clean. Beau didn’t stop until he got every drop of his seed, and even then he couldn’t seem to pull away, lapping slow touches until his tongue was sore and his breathing had finally calmed.

***

It was Friday.

Beau had told himself to call out. He had stood in front of his bathroom mirror and told himself out loud that he was going to call out of work that day. Then he had gotten so hard he had stripped his pants off and fucked himself on his fingers. He had already come once that morning when he first woke, his dick so hard from dreams of his student that he barely touched it before he’d orgasmed.

It was crazy just how much he needed sex lately, how hot he got just thinking about Darien. It was wrong, he knew it because he wasn’t thinking about things like how nice the boy was, or how sweet he treated him. No, Beau was getting off on how possessive, rough, and brutal his controlling student was. How Darien had been able to push him up against a wall and grope him so thoroughly that he couldn’t escape, had not wanted to by the time the boy had his hands down his pants. And when he had fingered him, forcing him to bend over in front of his other students and the open classroom door, Beau had gotten so hot, so crazy he hadn’t been able to do anything but let the boy take whatever he wanted from his body.

He was in trouble. He couldn’t keep a straight head, couldn’t seem to find the moral ground that had been so solid before. To the best of his knowledge, he didn’t even like men. But he got hard for Darien. Every time the student looked at him—God, touched him. Beau wanted him to touch him. Needed him to make him feel that way again.

What he really needed was to not go to school that day. It was a prestigious college, he was the newest, youngest teacher there, and if he went into work he knew he was going to do something completely inappropriate with a young man that could have him fired in an instant. He should have been fired. After what had happened, he should have been escorted off the grounds and possibly straight into a police cruiser.

But no one had said anything. Beau hadn’t reported the three hooligans that had destroyed his classroom, and the three punks hadn’t said a word to the Dean or authorities about how he’d then gotten on his knees and sucked the dick of the student that had stopped them. He had a strong suspicion Darien Castello was to blame for that as well. Not only was the boy as aggressive as they came, but he also had a senator for a father. Whatever Darien had said to his classmates after the incident had apparently been followed.

Or so, Beau hoped. He was still waiting for the axe to drop. Three days later, he was still unsure just what the hell had happened and if he was going to be able to handle what was coming next.

He still had the bruises on his hips where Darien’s fingers had dug in, the muscular twenty-two-year-old having ground him so tight against his desk it had left marks. He still had the cuts and slashes from the angry boys that had tried to beat him into giving them a passing grade. His hole still ached, still throbbed every time he thought of how Darien had pushed him over his desk and fingered him roughly until he came. All while claiming his teacher belonged to him.

“Fuck,” Beau groaned, hitting the brakes abruptly as the car in front of him stopped. He was hard again. He kept getting hard every time he thought about what had happened. Especially when he heard Darien still in his ear, whispering that he was a nasty, bad slut—his bad teacher, and he needed to be treated like it.

Beau didn’t think he was a bad teacher, not the way Darien had said it. Not really. In his early thirties, he’d only had a short string of respectable, if not extremely tepid relationships, all of them with women willing to overlook his feminine good looks with his silky blond hair, bright blue eyes, and slender form. He had never thought of himself as gay. He had certainly never thought to look at a student in any way that was inappropriate, male or female. But then, he had never met a young man like Darien Castello before.

Tall, black hair streaked with red, green eyes and pure muscular confidence, Darien was everything Beau had hated when he was in college. Mostly because Darien was the type of boy that liked to bully him. Now an established teacher, that had not changed. Even though Darien had been very interested in getting Beau off, he had also done it while extorting his teacher for money with the promise he’d hurt him if he didn’t pay up. And if money wasn’t available, Darien would be more than happy to take it out of his flesh with a good fucking.

His breath speeding up, Beau licked his lips, trying to will his erection away. He could still call out. He could turn the car around, call from his cellphone and pretend to be sick. Sure it was hardly a month into the term but it was just one day. One day to keep from doing something extremely stupid.

What that stupid thing was, he wasn’t a hundred percent certain. He had the money. Darien had said he’d accept $50 a week to protect him from the sort of punks that would destroy his classroom and beat him bloody… But only if Beau offered something else in trade. Something sexual. $450 worth of sexual.

Beau had never thought to hire a prostitute, the idea too off-putting and crass. Now he wished he knew someone who had, only so he could get an idea of just what $450 would get with a person like that. Because when Darien’s eyes burned over him, he was pretty sure the young man saw him the same way most men looked at a hooker. Someone with a price that once reached would give them anything and everything.

Except Beau was the one paying Darien. To protect him. Maybe… maybe to look at him the way the boy kept doing. Maybe even to touch him, if he could face that thought as well. Maybe to make him do the many dirty, messed up things Darien wanted to do to him and a secret, naughty part of Beau desired to do. Like suck the boy’s thick cock as thanks for beating up his attackers.

“Go home,” Beau whispered, biting his lip and staring down the street where he could just make out the clock tower of the college administrative building. “Call out sick, and go home.” He ran his hand down the front of his pants, hissing softly as he pressed against his hard erection.

He had managed to not be fired for the incident. He had managed to not have his name dragged through the papers in some huge scandal over his cocky, handsome extortionist of a student. He wouldn’t be so lucky this time. It was tempting fate. Tempting the little good left in him.

Would you like that, Mr. Ashford? Do you want everyone to know you belong to me? Do you want to belong to me?

Darien’s voice again taunting in his ear, Beau took the turn into the college gates, driving to the faculty parking lot. He kept his mind blank, kept his expression flat, his mouth grim. It was just a day like any other day. Just a Friday. Just the day he decided if he was going to let Darien Castello bully him back onto his knees, maybe over his desk again, and give the boy everything he wanted.

“Hey, teach.”

Head ducked as he washed his hands at the sink, Beau shivered from the familiar voice, his eyes lifting up to the mirror. Darien. The dark haired, green-eyed boy somehow looked even taller that day, his muscular form on full display in a tight black t-shirt and clinging jeans, biceps revealing tattoos under the short sleeves.

Beau’s hands shook as he turned the faucet off, catching his own wide blue eyes in the mirror beneath his shoulder length blond hair. He was already panting, already growing hard, his cheeks flushing as Darien stared at him through the mirror, eyes moving over him hungrily and lingering on his bow tie.

“Mr. Castello, will you be joining my class today?” Beau asked, his voice hoarse as he made himself reach for a paper towel instead of falling to his knees like his body was screaming to do.

“Yeah, I was thinking about it.” Darien watched his teacher patiently, waiting for Beau to dry his hands before addressing him again. “But I figured if I was going to let you teach me today, Mr. Ashford, it would be better to get something out of the way first.”

Heart beating wildly in his chest, Beau swallowed down the saliva building in this mouth. “Y-Yes?”

Darien crossed the distance in two strides, grabbing Beau roughly by the shoulders. “Put that mouth of yours to good work, teach. On your knees. Now.”

“Oh, fuck,” Beau groaned, his knees buckling when Darien pushed him down to the ground, his student’s large hands keeping him from swaying as he hit the floor. Fingers trembling, Beau tore at the boy’s fly while resting his head on his hip and giving in to the urge to breathe the brunette in. God, he was so strong. Made him feel safe. So dirty and protected.

“Better not dawdle, Mr. Ashford. Wouldn’t want anyone to walk in while you have my dick in your mouth,” Darien taunted, grabbing the blond by his hair and grinding his cock against the man’s cheek.

Fire and fear shuddering through him at the idea of getting caught, Beau pulled back enough to glance at the bathroom door. If anyone walked in they’d see Darien’s legs first. But it would only take a step, maybe two to see him after. Beau’s hair was recognizable—It would be so easy to identify him. He looked up at the brunette, whimpering lowly when intense green eyes burned into his.

“Open, pretty teach. Show me how much you missed me over the weekend.”

Staring up, Beau parted his lips, opening his mouth until Darien pulled him roughly by his hair and forced his head back. Groaning in the hold, Beau turned his gaze down to the large, thick dick of his student, taking in how hard and ready Darien already was to put it in him. He tried to lick the tip, wanting to taste it, wanting to have that thick flesh filling his mouth, but Darien kept pulling him back by his hair, Beau’s tongue outstretched while the teacher whimpered.

“God, you look like such a slut. You make me want to fuck you up so bad, teach.” Grunting, Darien shoved his dick between the blond’s parted lips, forcing Beau to hold still so he could get as deep as possible into his throat.

Eyes rolling back, Beau fought the wish to breathe, to choke or gag. He held himself still, letting Darien thrust into him shallowly, hitting the back of his throat with each pump. He couldn’t comprehend just how hard he was right now. A minute ago he had been tired but ready to teach his last class of the day, and now he was on his knees sucking his student’s cock. He felt so used and it was making him unbearably hard.

Beau glanced again at the bathroom door, groaning as his tonsils were ground by that blunt cockhead filling him again and again. God, if someone walked in he’d be ruined. He knew it. It didn’t matter if Darien’s father was a senator or not—There would be no fixing being caught like this.

It should have freaked him out, but Beau kept looking at the door hoping it would open. He wanted to be discovered. He wanted people to see Darien using him, getting off on his body, his mouth, his ass. The more he thought of it, the hotter he got, his entire body flushed and dizzy as he gave in to every relentless, gliding thrust of his student’s cock.

Growling, Darien held Beau tight against his body as he filled his throat, forcing two fingers into his mouth beneath his thick cock and making the blond open wider to him. “Fuck, that’s it. My fucking beautiful hole, look at you.” He rubbed Beau’s tongue while humping his face slowly, his dick swelling, balls tightening as he got close. “Hold on, teach. Just hold that slutty pose for a little longer.”

Hot tears streaming down his cheeks, Beau gurgled at the first splash of cum against the back of his throat, trying to swallow and failing. Darien’s cock suddenly withdrew, sperm streaming over the blond’s face as the boy graffitied his teacher’s skin in a seemingly endless hot rain.

Breathing heavily, Darien grabbed the blond by the back of his neck, pulling Beau back so he could take in the lines of cum all over his face. “Fuck, teach. You are a bad, bad man. Absolutely filthy.”

His mouth still hanging open, Beau gasped up at the brunette, eyes pleading for more.

“You close, Mr. Ashford?” Darien asked, his voice a low growl as he pushed three fingers into the blond’s gaping mouth and began to fuck him with the thick digits.

Beau couldn’t answer, mouth full, head caught too tight to even nod. But he could see that Darien knew. Could see it in the boy’s expression as he drank in every sight of Beau taking his fingers while dripping in his cum.

Beau moaned when he felt the touch of a sneaker to his hard dick, Darien holding his gaze while rubbing his shoe over his teacher’s erection. Beau struggled to talk around the fingers pushing deep into his throat, wanting to say that he needed to get his pants down. But Darien wouldn’t let up, and the boy gave a very demanding growl when Beau went to try to unzip.

Hands freezing, Beau’s face grew even redder, unable to look away from his student’s hungry glare above him. “You can clean your face, teach, that’s it. I want you in class wet with cum. You’re a bad teacher. My bad teacher. Even when you’re being good, I want you to still be filthy for me.”

Whimpering in agony, Beau bucked against the unyielding toe of his student’s sneaker, his body so tight, ass clenching, thighs hard as he jerked his release in hot spurts. Flushed and dizzy, he let Darien pull him to his feet, only to be slammed up back against the counter as the brunette crushed his lips to his and forcefully plundered his mouth with his tongue.

Pulling away just as abruptly, Darien pushed the blond’s disheveled hair from his face, staring into Beau’s dazed blue eyes as he took in his tears, cum, shame, and lust.

“You’re going to want to touch yourself during class, Mr. Ashford. You’re going to see me watching you, you’re going to get hard, and you’re going to want to touch yourself. Don’t.” Darien bent down, pressing his lips lightly to Beau’s dripping red ones. “I’ll be watching the whole time. No touching; I’ll punish you if you do. Now clean up before you’re late.”

Feeling completely lost and befuddled, Beau watched silently while Darien turned and left, his student giving him a final heated once over before the bathroom door swung shut.